When politicians cry, it doesn’t mean they’re crybabies

It’s worth talking about because it reminds us that these are just a bunch of regular people who have been put into positions of special responsibility, as well as to the fact they take their jobs seriously. They weren’t just being a bunch of crybabies.

Tina Lange started things off. The tissues came out and she struggled, pausing here and there as she worked her way through tributes to each of her colleagues and offered them some parting advice.

When you cry as you speak in public, you have two choices — pause whenever you feel your voice breaking, and hope you’ll get it under control, or talk through it. Lange apologized several times but there was no need.

Just a woman crying? Because women cry? But then it was Donovan Cavers’ turn, and he faced the same challenge — the emotion of saying goodbye. Men aren’t supposed to cry, are they?

Being a man or a woman had nothing to do with it. Saying goodbye to something you’ve spent years putting your life into, and to the people you’ve worked with, is hard. Cavers also mentioned that he’d had a lot of sleepless nights during his years on council, especially during the Ajax controversy, another important reminder that good politicians are people with emotions.

Iconic councillor Pat Wallace was steady as she offered her parting words, and Ray Dhaliwal chose not to speak but all on council obviously felt the impact of the goodbyes, and it got a bit syrupy but it was nothing to be embarrassed about.

Both happy and sad milestones often make us think of the importance of family. Terry Lake wept briefly as he spoke of his family when he was sworn in as mayor in 2005.

I’ve gotten choked up a couple of times, too — 13 years ago when, with family at my side, I announced I wouldn’t be running for another term as mayor, and again this year as I expressed my thanks to the regional district board for its support after the death of my daughter Edyn.

We all cry but we’re taught to think we shouldn’t, and programmed to think leaders in particular shouldn’t cry, so leaders do their best not to.

This last council didn’t always get along — debates were sometimes harsh — but they got the job done and, at the end of the day, they parted as friends. That hasn’t been the case with every council.

What’s important is showing strength and resolve when there are tough decisions to be made. Being strong, after all, is important in politics, but there are times when it’s OK to let your guard down.

World leaders sometimes weep, including Justin Trudeau. He cried in public over the death of Tragically Hip musician Gord Downie, and again at a funeral for the victims of the Quebec City mosque shooting. He also tends to shed tears whenever he apologizes, on behalf of government, to an offended group.

Trudeau is admired by some for his lack of self-consciousness about crying. Others mock him. I suspect that if Pierre was still around, he’d grab his son by the shoulders and tell him to “man up” — the generation gap. We don’t judge tears as harshly as we once did.

On Tuesday, the tears weren’t tears of self-pity, they were tears of gratitude, for having had the opportunity to serve, for the support received along the way and, sure, sadness at leaving it behind.

Man or woman, politicians are human. They have real emotions. So to anyone who might have been put off by the tears shed in City Hall this week, I say we don’t want politicians who aren’t capable of feeling a moment deeply.

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Justin Trudeau apologized to the Tsilhqot’in on Friday, again. He already apologized last March for a “historic wrong” that has been shamefully exaggerated and misrepresented when fingers of blame are pointed.

I wrote after Trudeau’s first apology (which followed, by the way, two earlier apologies by B.C. governments) about how the facts surrounding what’s called the Chilcotin War of 1864 have been mangled.

What’s truly amazing, and disheartening, is that the misinformation behind these apologies is accepted by the mainstream media and repeated as gospel. The uprising was not, as today’s Tsilhqot’in leaders claim, “an altercation between warring nations.” It was an attack on a road-building party for the primary purpose of plunder.

They were not “war heroes.” It was not war. The attackers killed and mutilated their victims. Six of the men responsible were hanged, but no one has ever apologized to the families of the unarmed road builders who were shot and hacked to death as they slept.

Never mentioned is the fact that the two ranking chiefs of the day, Anahim and Alexis, helped the colonial government in finding the culprits and bringing about their surrender.

But why go deeper and look at the real causes of this event and assign blame fairly? Instead, it’s more convenient to demonize Judge Matthew Begbie, who presided over their trial. The sad part is that it’s all so unnecessary. The facts, the truth, are enough to support the stated cause of reconciliation.

Mel Rothenburger is a former mayor of Kamloops, former school board chair and retired newspaper editor. He publishes the ArmchairMayor.ca opinion website, and is a director on the Thompson-Nicola Regional District board. He can be reached at mrothenburger@armchairmayor.ca.

by Armchair Mayor

When politicians cry, it doesn’t mean they’re crybabies

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